A story about the bond between a dog and a human.

Introduction

I was clearing my desk yesterday (yet again) and came across an article that I wrote in 2007.  It’s a message of love; the love of a dog for a human.  But before going to that article, look at the photo below.  It’s a wonderful example of the joy of having Pharaoh in my life.  It was taken in July 2006 at the airfield in Devon, SW England, where a group of us shared a Piper Super Cub, about which I wrote in Learning from Dogs in August 2009.

If you think Pharaoh is smiling, I’m not going to argue with you.  First time in the Cub, first time strapped in to the rear seat, everything utterly strange and Pharaoh is clearly more joyful than the pilot!

Anyway, to the article.  I wrote it in September, 2007, based on something that was sent to me from an unknown author, and modified to reflect the special relationship that I had, and still have, with my then four-year-old German Shepherd, Pharaoh.

I am your dog and have something I would love to whisper in your ear.

I am your dog and have something I would love to whisper in your ear.

I know that you humans lead busy lives. Some have to work, some have children to raise, some have to do this alone.  It always seems like you are running here and there, often much too fast, often never noticing the truly grand things in life.

Look down at me now. See the way my dark brown eyes look at yours.

You smile at me.  I see love in your eyes.  What do you see in mine?  Do you see a spirit? A soul inside, who loves you as no other could in the world? A spirit that would forgive all trespasses of prior wrongdoing for just a simple moment of your time?

That is all I ask. To slow down, if even for a few minutes, and be with me.

So many times, you have been saddened by others of my kind, passing on.  Sometimes we die young and oh so quickly, so suddenly it wrenches your heart out of your throat.  Sometimes, we age so slowly before your eyes that you may not even seem to know until the very end, when we look at you with grizzled muzzles and cataract-clouded eyes.  Still the love is always there, even when we must take that last long sleep dreaming of running free in a distant, open land.

I may not be here tomorrow.  I may not be here next week.  Someday you will shed the water from your eyes, that humans have when grief fills their souls, and you will mourn the loss of just ‘one more day’ with me.  Because I love you so, this future sorrow even now touches my spirit and grieves me. I read you in so many ways that you cannot even start to contemplate.

We have now together.  So come and sit next to me here on the floor and look deep into my eyes. Do you see how if you look deeply at me we can talk, you and I, heart to heart. Come not to me as my owner but as a living soul.  Stroke my fur and let us look deep into the other’s eyes and talk with our hearts.

I may tell you something about the fun of working the scents in the woods where you and I go.  Or I may tell you something profound about myself or how we dogs see life in general.  I know you decided to have me in your life because you wanted a soul to share things with.  I know how much you have cared for me and always stood up for me even when others have been against me.  I know how hard you have worked to help me to be the teacher that I was born to be.  That gift from you has been very precious to me.  I know too that you have been through troubled times and I have been there to guard you, to protect you, to be there for you always.

I am very different to you but here I am.  I am a dog but just as alive as you.

I feel emotion.  I feel physical senses.  I can revel in the differences of our spirits and souls. I do not think of you as a dog on two feet; I know what you are. You are human, in all of your quirkiness, and I love you still.

So come sit with me on the floor. Enter my world and let time slow down if only for a few minutes.  Look deep into my eyes and whisper in my ears. Speak with your heart and I will know your true self.

We may not have tomorrow but we do have now.

Postscript.

Just three months after writing the above, on December 17th, 2007, I flew in to Hemosillo Airport in Mexico to spend Christmas with Suzann, sister of dear friend Dan Gomez, and her husband Don down in the coastal town of San Carlos.  That’s when I met Jean, leading to me and Jean falling in love.  Jean then came to England and I came back to Mexico in June, 2008.  In September, 2008 Pharaoh and I left England permanently and travelled out to San Carlos to be with Jean and her dogs.  In February, 2010, Jean and I, Pharaoh and twelve other dogs, and six cats all moved to Payson, Arizona.

In November, 2010 Jean and I were married.  So the miracle for me and Pharaoh is that when I wrote that piece back in 2007 this most beautiful future was yet to unfold.    I never miss a day when I don’t, “… come sit with me on the floor. Enter my world and let time slow down if only for a few minutes.  Look deep into my eyes and whisper in my ears. Speak with your heart and I will know your true self.”  Now not just with Pharaoh but with Hazel, Dhalia, Sweeny, Casey, Loopy, Lilly, Ruby, and all the other beautiful dog souls.